Ice Mistress

She stands shrouded in softness, the weave
of her sweater blooming with her beauty.
A mistress of the ice, a sultry enchantress
who captivates me with her smile,
which glimmers like a reflection
in a river of sunset-colored hair.
My hands tingle under the spell, with thoughts
of caressing the wool on her body.
Her warmth reigns over the rime,
banishing the cold with her embrace.
Soft downy arms cascading along my back,
as her voice, like wind chiming off icicles,
lulls me into a peaceful trance.